


The Sting in My Eyes

by Johannas_Motivational_Insults



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, post s5 processing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johannas_Motivational_Insults/pseuds/Johannas_Motivational_Insults
Summary: How do you mourn the death of someone who caused you so much heartache? How do you reconcile a dying declaration of pride with a lifetime of contempt? (Or, Catra's still learning to identify and regulate her emotions, and to communicate with Adora. Melog helps her do both.)
Relationships: Adora & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra & Melog (She-Ra), Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 858





	The Sting in My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Um yeah so this is basically my attempt at processing all the trauma and joy of season 5, including Catra getting a therapy animal and Shadow Weaver's disconcerting yet completely on brand death.
> 
> I'm not usually one for titles based on lyrics but this one is very appropriate and the song it's from is just too fitting for Shadow Weaver.
> 
> As usual, this is written in dual POV.

_There’s a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes  
I threw them to sea, but a gust blew them backwards  
And the sting in my eyes that you then inflicted  
Was par for the course just as when you were living_  
-“Styrofoam Plates” by Death Cab for Cutie 

***

It’s the cold that pulls Adora from her once peaceful slumber. Her body shifts in discontentment, seeking what cannot be found. Finally her eyes open to register the empty space beside her, her arm previously slung over Catra’s side hanging limply from its socket.

As she drifts into wakefulness, she notices that there’s no weight or warmth by her feet either. This is only their second night back in Bright Moon, but Melog has already made a habit of shrinking to a smaller form and sleeping by their feet at night. They’re cuddly and maybe they’d rather sleep in Catra’s arms, but this bed is no larger than the one Catra so often invaded in the Fright Zone. Adora would never admit it, but she’s not so eager to get a larger bed, to let Catra out of arm’s reach or leave room for Melog to steal those arms that are meant for her.

That’s not to say she doesn’t appreciate Catra’s new pet. They are really helping her identify and regulate her emotions, and it’s doing wonders for her relationship with Adora. But the easy comfort Catra gets from Melog throws into sharp relief how she and Adora still have a hard time talking about things. The intensity of their feelings for each other makes every intimate exchange a loaded one. Adora is infinitely grateful that Catra has Melog, and she enjoys their company and affection too. Hell, she more than enjoys it. But sometimes she misses being the friend Catra could come to easily, talk to about everything with no fear or hesitation.

Maybe she just misses their innocence. But that’s long gone, anyway. Shadow Weaver was already driving a wedge between them long before the intensity and awkwardness of puberty had a chance to tear them apart.

The sharp sound of a nearby sob jolts Adora into full awareness, her body snapping upright. If she had ears like Catra’s, they’d be sticking straight up. The noises continue, muffled now, and Adora’s chest aches. Melog’s absence is suddenly of great comfort to her. At least that means Catra’s not alone. 

Gingerly peeling the covers off her body, Adora eases her weight onto the floor and tiptoes over to the balcony. Peeking out the door, she spots Catra sitting near the edge with her knees pulled to her chest, Melog standing guard beside her. Wary of embarrassing her girlfriend, she telegraphs her arrival with a couple of louder steps before venturing onto the balcony.

“Catra?” she calls gently.

The doleful glance Catra casts over her shoulder makes Adora’s gut twinge, her hands itching to smooth over Catra’s fur and soothe her pain. Adora finds herself gravitating towards her, an impulse she’s never been able to curb. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

An ironic chuckle bursts from Catra’s tight throat as she averts her eyes, instinctively swiping the tears from her cheeks. “Nothing. For once, nothing is wrong.”

“Then why are you crying?” asks Adora. Easing herself down beside Catra, she lays a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Catra’s honest answer comes out in a whisper, her glazed eyes pointed straight ahead.

 _“Too much,”_ says Melog, nuzzling hard against Catra’s temple as though they’re trying to push the words straight into her head. _“Too much.”_

Giving Melog’s head a grateful little scratch, Catra mutters, “I just… there’s too much inside me. It needs to come out. I don’t know… I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Adora’s thumb brushes back and forth over her shoulder. “Are you sad?”

“No, I’m happy. And… confused.” Catra frowns down at the concrete. “Maybe sad too.”

“About Shadow Weaver?”

Catra tenses with a tiny hiss, even the soft hand on her shoulder suddenly too much contact. “No. Or not… sad, just…”

“It’s okay,” says Adora, drawing her hand back. “I don’t know how I feel about her either.” Hugging her knees tight to her chest, she continues, “Don’t get me wrong, every time I saw her I felt sick. And whenever she’d talk about you, disrespect you like she did, it made me so angry. But whenever I remember I’m never going to see her again…” Her voice cracks slightly as tears well in her eyes, and she swallows hard. “Knowing she’s gone hurts almost as much as she did.”

Catra says nothing for a moment, making Adora’s brow crease with worry. Just when she’s on the verge of apologizing for making this about her, Catra speaks again. “She said she was proud of me.”

Adora blinks, hard. “What?”

“Shadow Weaver. When she was fighting the bug, before you got there. She said she was proud of me. I don’t understand why.”

Adora doesn’t either. Not because Catra doesn’t make her proud, but because Shadow Weaver always treated Catra like a total nuisance. But she can’t exactly say that, not without sounding like a massive dick. Eventually she simply admits, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither did I,” whispers Catra. Her claws flex slightly, pricking at the skin of her forearm. Not enough to do any damage, just enough to help her focus her thoughts. “It hurt hearing her say that, but like in a good way? I’d been waiting my whole life for her to tell me that. But then when I thought about it later, it made me so angry. What made her think she could say that then, after everything she did? I wanted nothing to do with her, I only asked her to help me get to you because she was the only person who could. And then she says something like that, like she has any right…”

Catra’s body is beginning to shake, fingers squeezing tight around Melog’s short fur. They push up against her hand, prompting her to let go and start raking her fingers through it on repeat.

Petting Melog aggressively to keep herself halfway calm, she continues, “I hate that her saying that made me happy. I hate that I miss her.” Catra’s throat aches, a pain both dull and splitting all but stealing her ability to breathe. Her voice cracks as she asks the stars, “Why couldn’t she just let me hate her?”

And then Adora’s arms are around her, holding her tight. Catra can’t bring herself to lean into the embrace, her body still tense and shivering with overwhelming emotion. Instead she finds one of Adora’s hands and links their fingers together with a sharp squeeze. 

Swallowing hard in a feeble attempt to steady her voice, Catra laments, “Things were so fucked up between us, you know? And then she says that, like somehow it makes it all better? Well it doesn’t!” With both her hands full and this flash of anger demanding a way out, Catra slams one of her feet down on the concrete, sending a spike of pain through her heel. “Ow!”

The movement startles Adora and she reacts on instinct, grabbing each of Catra’s shoulders and turning them to face her. “Catra, be careful!”

Catra’s breaths are coming fast, her cheeks reddened with rage, a wild look in her eyes. Melog is now on their feet, poking their head over Catra’s shoulder and studying her face with as much concern as Adora. They push their head hard into the crook of her neck, purring loudly and making some of those unintelligible noises that only Catra can understand. Catra’s throat bobs conspicuously, her eyes squeezing shut. She inhales slowly, deeply, holds and releases.

After a few of these breaths, her eyes open and fix Adora with an embarrassed, apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry, I got mad again,” says Catra, enunciating her every word as she focuses on holding on to that control. Adora’s seldom been prouder. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me, and you don’t have to be sorry,” Adora assures her, earnest hands gripping one of Catra’s. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I just don’t want you hurting yourself over this. Over her. Hasn’t she hurt us enough?”

“More than enough,” snorts Catra, eyes dropping to the balcony. Her free hand moves to pet the head resting on her shoulder, gently this time.

Rubbing a thumb over the back of Catra’s hand, Adora says, “I know it’s hard, but we have to find a way to move on from her. From everything she did to us.”

It’s so hypocritical, and she knows it. If either of them feels bound for life to Shadow Weaver, it’s Adora. She sighs. “We have to at least try.”

“Well she sure made it harder,” Catra remarks with a scowl. “‘You’re welcome,’ what the fuck even was that? She couldn’t do one good thing in her life without making it all about her?” Sniffling, she swipes the back of her hand across her nose before returning it to her alien pet. Her eyes fall as she mutters, “It’s like she wanted us to forgive her, but she didn’t even apologize.” 

“I told her I’d never forgive her.”

Catra’s head snaps up, her eyes wide. “What?”

Ducking her head sheepishly, Adora explains, “After you left the camp, she tried to tell me how it was for the best and how I’d made the right choice. And I just laid into her. Told her she did nothing but ruin people and their chances to be happy.” Chuckling awkwardly, she busies herself with sweeping some loose hair behind her ear. “I may have been a teensy bit upset at the time.”

Catra can’t help the way she stares at Adora over the next several seconds. If there was one thing she’d always wanted to witness their entire childhood, it was Adora standing up to Shadow Weaver. None of Adora’s half-assed ‘she didn’t mean it’ or ‘I’ll get her to try harder’ bullshit, but actually telling Shadow Weaver she was wrong for how she treated Catra. Even if this throwdown wasn’t about Catra in particular, she’s still sorry she missed it.

Fingers toying with the short fur on Melog’s head again, she quietly asks, “Did you mean it?” She can’t help the dubiousness in her uncertain tone and narrowed eyes, and can only hope Adora understands why.

Thankfully, Adora doesn’t seem to notice. “What?” she asks. “Not forgiving her?” When Catra nods, she gives a noncommittal shrug. “At the time. I dunno, maybe one day I will. But if I do it will be for me, not her.” Eyes flitting away, she mutters, “Maybe I could forgive her for what she did to me, but what she did to you, what she did to us…”

Adora’s throat bobs, eyelids fluttering to combat the burning, wet sensation building behind them. “She never stopped trying to rip us apart. I’ll never understand that. You were all I ever wanted, and I almost lost you because of her.”

“Not just because of her.” Catra swallows hard, eyes downcast. A strained chuckle bursts from her lips and she says, “If you forgave me, you can probably forgive her. Let’s be honest, here.”

“Catra, hey.” Adora squeezes her hand gently. “You know that’s not fair.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s fair. The suffocating, overwhelmed feeling from before is back, and with it the tears. They pool in Catra’s eyes, cut hot trails down her cheeks. Pushing out a hard breath, she laments, “We spent so long hurting each other. I spent so long hurting you. I wasted so much time when we could have been happy, and now we can’t ever get it back.”

A gentle hand reaches up, wipes the tears dripping from her chin. Catra leans into the warmth and comfort of Adora’s palm, but doesn’t look her in the eye until she asks, “Would you have been happy?”

Catra’s mouth opens automatically, set to argue, but the words seem to catch in her throat. Adora presses on before she has the chance to form an argument.

“Look, I get now why you didn’t leave with me,” she says, and her lips twitch with both regret and understanding. “Maybe you needed that time to figure out what you really wanted. Maybe you were sad, and hurting, but that doesn’t mean it was a waste.” Brushing some hair back behind Catra’s ear, she muses, “I think, in a way, we both became better on our own. Even if we weren’t always doing good things. Me included.”

Tears are full on streaming down Catra’s face now, and Adora can see the effort it’s taking for her not to let it completely crumple. Tilting her forehead to rest against Catra’s, she murmurs, “If it means we get to be happy now, I’m okay with it. Really.”

“I’m not.”

The words make Adora pull back enough to see Catra’s face. Though still wet with tears, it’s gone tight, her jaw set. “Not just us fighting. Everything. Prime, Shadow Weaver, what was any of it for?”

Adora hesitates a moment, uncertain if Catra is on the verge of opening up or shutting down. Finally she asks quietly, as non-threateningly as she can manage, “What did Prime do to you?”

A quiet growl rumbles out of Melog’s chest and Adora backtracks, “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

Catra stares past Adora, her fists clenched as she fights off the cold, tense feeling she gets whenever the scenes flash through her memory. It would be even worse than remembering how she suffered at Shadow Weaver’s hand, if her contempt had not felt so intensely personal.

She’s pulled from that frozen state by the feeling of Melog circling around her body, wedging their torso in between her knees. They nuzzle into her neck and she sighs, turning into the contact and letting her head rest against theirs. As the warmth and proximity allows her to relax, she considers Adora’s offer. Mouth opening and closing several times, she says, “I do, I just…”

It’s hard to talk about this. Not just to open up about the pain, but to think about what happened to her.

 _“You can do it,”_ Melog mewls beside her ear. _“Be brave.”_

Catra wraps her arms around their neck, closing her eyes and melting into the feeling of warmth and safety. She could find that in Adora’s arms too (and Adora would no doubt prefer that), but it’s easier with Melog. Though Catra knows it’s silly and she shouldn’t be thinking like this anymore, she still hates showing weakness in front of Adora. It’s something they were both raised to ridicule, to beat out of each other. Even if Adora doesn’t say it, she can’t help fearing Adora’s secretly judging her like she still catches herself judging people sometimes.

Melog, on the other hand, is not only attuned to Catra’s emotions, they also weren’t raised in the Horde. And without a fraught history between them like the one she shares with Adora, not to mention all the emotions and desires that bubble up inside her when they’re close, it’s easier for her to remain calm in Melog’s embrace.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Catra asks, “You remember how Shadow Weaver would sometimes use her magic to- to hold me?”

Adora’s brow furrows. “The red glowy magic?”

“It was more like lightning, electric. At least when you weren’t there,” mutters Catra, avoiding her gaze. “After I sent Glimmer to you, Prime, he…” She shudders and Melog purrs quietly, pushing harder into her neck. The gentle vibration soothes her enough to continue, “He didn’t just chip me. He put me in this pool of green water, or something. He forced me under, and it was electric too. The water made the current worse, it was like it was all over and inside of me. It was meant to wipe my mind, to ‘free me of my afflictions.’” A choked chuckle bursts from her throat. “Obviously that worked.”

“I’m sorry,” Adora says quietly, her own throat and gut too tight to allow much of any volume.

A sudden wave of alarm and regret hits Catra and she turns to Adora with wide eyes. “Oh, shit, no. I don’t mean you’re the affliction, or my memories of you were. Even if that’s what he said.”

“I know,” Adora assures her softly, loosely gripping her forearm. She forces a smile despite her stinging eyes. “I meant I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. I wish I could’ve stopped it.”

Those words punch the air from Catra’s lungs, her eyes squeezing shut against a sudden influx of tears. That hurts in the exact same way as Shadow Weaver’s declaration of pride - she’s yearned so long to hear those words, but they do little to soothe all the pain they unearth. Her lungs jolt against her will and she jams her fist against her mouth, muffling the sob. She continues to battle her shaking shoulders, but the tears streaming down her cheeks betray her emotions nonetheless.

Adora’s heart aches. She hates seeing Catra cry. But maybe this is what she needs. Instead of attempting to shush her, she runs her fingers through Catra’s hair and gently scritches at her scalp, encouraging the outpouring of emotion. Catra said she had too much bottled up inside her, and if this helps her release it Adora can withstand a little heartache. And if she’s being completely honest, she’s kind of missed holding Catra while she cries. She’s missed the vulnerability, the trust, the intimacy, the feeling of value it bestows upon her.

Taking Catra’s hand, Adora presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You did some bad things, Catra, but you didn’t deserve to suffer.” A painful lump rises in her throat, forcing her to swallow. “But that’s all you’ve gotten, all your life. It’s not fair.”

When she feels Catra butting up against the hand still on her head, Adora’s glazed eyes refocus on her face. Catra gives Adora a small, bittersweet smile through her tears. “Hey, not all my memories of the Fright Zone are bad.”

Adora’s mouth twitches glumly. “Most of them, isn’t that what you said?”

“Yeah,” she says, turning her hand in Adora’s grip to lace their fingers together, “but all my good ones were with you.”

Despite the deep ache in her chest, Adora can’t help smiling. Thumb sweeping across the back of Catra’s hand, she asks, “Come back to bed?”

Catra hums, eyes floating up and away. “I wanna stay out here for awhile.”

Swallowing her disappointment, Adora nods. “Okay.”

As she shifts to get up, Catra’s grip on her hand tightens. “Hey,” she says, meeting Adora’s gaze with a soft, teasing smile. “I didn’t say I want you to leave.”

“You do hate it when I do that,” Adora deadpans, the first words to come to mind. She winces immediately but Catra just chuckles as she leans in, kissing Adora gently.

Pulling Adora’s knee down from her chest, Catra gives Melog’s neck a tiny beckoning tug and lies on her side, using Adora’s thigh as a pillow. Adora’s leg shakes with quiet laughter as she brings her other leg down, sitting cross-legged and giving Catra her whole lap.

Melog snuggles up beside Catra, worming under her arm and warming her body. Catra’s fingers idly play with the fur on their flank, coaxing out some deep rumbling purrs that echo through her ribcage and sap the tension from her muscles. She can’t help the way she echoes the noises right back, especially once Adora’s hand resumes the scritching and petting from earlier. When her nails catch right behind her ear, Catra sighs loudly, torn between succumbing to the heaviness of her eyelids or the warmth suddenly burning deep in her belly. Her eyelids win, barely.

Adora’s other hand drifts up Catra’s spine, her fingertips electric as they follow the contours of every little bone. Skipping the back of Catra’s neck, she weaves her fingers through the rapidly growing hair at the base of her skull.

“I love you, my sweet girl,” she murmurs. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

Catra snorts, eyes rolling behind their lids. “Adora, at least be realistic. Bad things happen.”

“Nope,” retorts Adora, her tone somehow both goofy and resolute. “I won’t let them happen.”

Scoffing and nuzzling into the warmth and softness of her thigh, Catra mutters, “You’re such an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” Adora says proudly. She can’t help the huge smile growing on her face. She’s Catra’s. Catra’s hers. Maybe it always was that way, but knowing it so certainly now is a feeling she has yet to get over. Maybe she never will.

A warm drop on Adora’s thigh makes her blink down in concern. But Catra’s still purring. These must be happy tears. A floaty feeling fills Adora’s chest and she tenderly rubs Catra’s skull. “If it’s still too much… if you need to cry more, I don’t mind.” Leaning down to kiss her forehead, she whispers against her ear, “It’s okay. I know how strong you are.”

Catra couldn’t stop the tears flowing from her stinging eyes even if she wanted to, now. But she doesn’t want to. This is what she needed. Warmth, comfort, release. She lets them flow free, the gentle fingers on her scalp and behind her ears both soothing and stoking the melee of emotions pouring out through her tear ducts. Adora’s right, this is okay. She’s not weak, she’s just learning to express herself in healthier ways, like Perfuma keeps urging her to do. And it feels good.

It feels safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I do have several chapters of Demons in the works and some other content too, but I'm moving this weekend so it may be slow to come. I hope this will tide you guys over, short as it may be. :)


End file.
